


Eleven Conversations About One Thing

by the_deep_magic



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Bad Sex, Bottoming from the Top, Break Up, Celibacy, Comfort, Conversations, First Time, Humor, M/M, Promiscuity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-09
Updated: 2010-03-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fact is that Chris has exactly two levels of interpersonal boundaries: 1) the Great Wall of China and 2) nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eleven Conversations About One Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: discussions of bad!sex with Chris/OMCs

**One**

Zach used to think that Chris never opened up to anyone. This is not entirely true. The fact is that Chris has exactly two levels of interpersonal boundaries: 1) the Great Wall of China and 2) nothing. You either get the airily charming, skin-deep interview persona or you get Chris Pine draped across the couch in your trailer, telling you how badly his ass hurts. There’s no middle ground.

Most of the time Zach feels flattered – after all, not many people get past the Great Wall. For Zach, it had happened the night of the Chair Incident. After Chris toppled the command chair on set, he'd taken a lot of ribbing for it. Outwardly, he seemed to be taking it well, but Zach figured he had to be nursing more than a bruised shoulder. So he took Chris out for a beer afterward. Well, “a beer” had turned into tequila, lots of tequila, and there had been an incident with an airborne maraschino cherry and a guy named Big Eddie with a lot of tattoos, and at some point between hiding out behind the dumpster and crashing at Zach's place, Chris had decided to separate Zach from the Mongolian hordes and let him over the Wall.

Which brings him back to the ass-hurting. Zach has never exactly considered himself a prude, but then again he seems to have more specific levels of privacy than Chris.

"Oh my god," Chris groans into the grimy cushions. " _Oh_ my god. There is nothing – _nothing_ – worse than a guy with a huge dick and no idea how to use it."

Zach adds honey to his herbal tea. Tea that is supposed to be calming. "Cholera," he says.

"Bwuh?"

"Cholera. The Red Death. Kills thousands of people in underdeveloped countries every year. I would say that, objectively, cholera is worse."

"Why must you always rain on my hyperbole?"

"It pleases me."

"Yeah, well, I could use a little sympathy here." Chris props himself up on his elbows. "Seriously, though, you know those guys that expect you to be so enamored by their monster dick that they think they don't have to put any effort into it? This was one of those. I only came – by my own hand, I’ll have you know – after he had shot his load and passed out."

"Have you ever considered – and this is just a suggestion – I dunno, putting your potential partners through a more extensive selection process?"

"Holy shit, did you just call me a manwhore? I think you just called me a manwhore."

Zach sighs, walking over with his tea and attempting to find a sliver of space on the couch that Chris is not currently occupying. He settles for the arm. "I'm just saying that maybe if you invested the time you spend complaining about your sexual exploits into finding better ones, you wouldn't need to do the complaining."

With a pout, Chris pokes Zach in the thigh. Repeatedly. "Aw, you're getting sick of me, aren't you?"

"Again with the putting words in my mouth," Zach says, sipping his tea. The more Chris complains about his sex life, the stronger Zach's urge to hold his pinky up as he drinks, just to balance out the crudeness. "I was trying to be helpful."

"I appreciate it, I do," Chris says, flopping back down on his stomach. "And I appreciate you letting me vent. None of the straight guys will listen and Zoe just flicks me in the ear and tells me to grow up."

"Does it work? This ear-flicking?"

"Evidently not," Chris groans, rolling off the couch and getting to his feet stiffly. "Thank god I don't have to actually sit down today; I don't know what the hell I'd do."

Zach considers it. "Well, they make those donut-shaped cushions for pregnant women."

Chris claps a hand to his forehead. "What does it say about me that my first reaction was not 'no way' but 'where can I get one of those around here'?"

"It says you need higher standards," Zach says with a smile.

 

 **Two**

Sometimes it starts with Chris bounding into the trailer without knocking first.

"I did it!"

"Congratulations," says Zach, setting his book aside. So much for an hour of quiet reading. "Should I even ask?"

"I, like, talked to this guy before we fucked," Chris says proudly, making a face at the pile of dirty dishes in Zach’s sink and heading over to wash them

"Good god, alert the Nobel Peace Prize committee," Zach says with a roll of his eyes, but at least Chris is making himself useful.

"He was... well, he wasn't that interesting. But he had a mouth like a Hoover, god _damn_."

"Well, baby steps, I suppose. Will you be seeing this gentleman again?"

"Umm... probably not. Didn't catch his name."

"Or that," Zach says lightly.

"I knew it!” Chris yelps, pointing a soapy and accusing finger at Zach. “You do have a problem with my manwhoring!"

"I'm not judging, it's just... for me, I've never been comfortable with disposable sex partners. I know, that makes me a girl, let's have it."

Chris shrugs. "Nah, that's cool. I just don't like to limit myself."

"I think this is the part where I point out you're a commitment-phobe."

"And I harass you for using clichéd relationship buzzwords."

"And I respond with a list of the merits of long-term relationships."

"To which I blow a raspberry. Good thing we got that over with."

"Indeed."

"You're sounding more like Spock every day," Chris chuckles. "Not sure if that's a good thing. Hey, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? I mean it. I'll listen."

"I know," Zach sighs. "It's just that there's disturbingly little to tell at the moment. You're with me on set most days, and I don't really do anything exciting when I leave."

Chris grins. "I think Big Eddie would dispute that particular claim."

"Okay, I only do exciting things when I go out with you." Zach pauses. "God, what does that say about _me_?"

"That you have excellent taste in friends. Or friend, at least."

"Hey, I have other friends! Just, Kristen’s off filming in Hawaii, and Corey, Neal, and I either end up working on production stuff or getting plastered and reminiscing about the good ol' days in the ‘Burgh."

"Fair enough,” Chris says, rinsing off the last dish. “Offer still stands, you know."

 

 **Three**

It’s not as though they only talk about sex, but their more… colorful conversations have a way of being particularly memorable. They've apparently dispensed with the need for preliminaries now, as evidenced by the fact that the second Chris hands Zach his coffee and sits down, he starts in with, "So the guy last night wasn't bad, but I don't know if he had a sinus condition or what. We're getting into it – he's got me folded in half and he’s pounding away, and just as it’s really starting to get good, he starts, like, _whistling_ through his nose. On every. Single. Thrust. It was so distracting."

"You always bottom?" Zach asks, taking a sip of the coffee. No cream, two sugars – perfect.

"Pretty much. That shock you?"

"Ass like yours? Not especially."

Chris laughs loud enough for the crew members at the other tables to turn their heads, and at least had the good sense to drop his voice. Not that it matters – everyone on the other side of the Great Wall usually just assumes they’re discussing vocabulary words or something. Because they do that, too. "I can be a little... pushy sometimes. But yeah, I love taking it." He sets down his coffee and peers at Zach intently. "Oh, you're a total top, aren't you?"

Zach keeps his eyes on his coffee. "What makes you think that?"

"You're always so composed. I mean, look at you right now. I'm yammering on about the sex I had last night and you're just arching your eyebrow, spouting witty little retorts. I bet you turn the Sylar eyes on someone and they’re on their back with their legs up in the air in five seconds.”

“That’s… quite the imagination you have there.”

“And you're so, I dunno, detail-oriented. Thorough. _Intense_. Oh, fuck, I'm totally turning myself on right now."

Zach has to laugh at that. "And I didn’t even have to buy you a drink. Christopher Pine: redefining the notion of 'cheap date.'"

"C'mon, tell me,” Chris whispers, leaning forward conspiratorially. “You're fantastic in the sack, aren't you?"

"Would anyone say no to that? Would you?"

"I _am_ fantastic in bed. But I see your point. And you don't have to answer if you don’t want to."

"Why thank you."

"See, there you go. Being all coy and restrained.” Chris slumps back in his chair, eyeing Zach shrewdly. “I wanna see you cut loose sometime. When we're not being chased down by bikers, I mean."

"We'll go to the circus," Zach says dryly, taking another well-timed sip. "I go crazy for elephants."

 

 **Four**

They’ve got Zach doing reshoots for most of the day and Chris isn’t even on set, but Zach still gets a text message out of nowhere.

 _We're going to get you laid tonight._

Zach lets out a snort and replies:

 _What made you decide this?_

The answer comes back in seconds.

 _No circus in town and you need to loosen up. Which brings me to my second point: can I watch?_

Zach groans and pockets his phone. He has no idea how to respond to that and really doesn’t feel like dealing with it just now.

It turns into a much longer day on set than anyone had anticipated. Not that it’s ever a _shorter_ day, but everything seems particularly repetitive and grueling. By the time Zach gets home, he isn’t really in the mood for company, but when Chris calls, Zach can’t dissuade him from coming over.

“I didn’t mean it. About the watching,” Chris says as soon as Zach opens the door. “Unless you’re into that. What _are_ you into, anyway? You know everything about me, sex-wise.”

“Not going out tonight,” Zach mutters, already heading back to the couch. “You can stay if you want, but I’m not going any farther than the kitchen.”

“That’s cool. I think there’s a Gunsmoke marathon on.”

Damn if that doesn’t actually sound appealing. Zach’s not in the mood for philosophical discourse and moral ambiguities – tonight, he just wants to see the good guys (in white hats) dishing out frontier justice to the bad guys (in black hats, naturally).

He pops some popcorn while Chris opens the beers he brought over. They watch the first few episodes mostly in silence until Marshall Dillon guns down a couple of outlaws and Chris mumbles, “Pretty high body count on this show. About on par with your average CSI, and these episodes were made in, what, the 50s? Early 60s?”

Zach’s never thought about it. “Yeah. But they don’t show any suffering.”

“That’s worse, if you ask me,” Chris says with a shrug. “You don’t see the real consequences of the violence – just a loud bang and the guy falls over clutching his stomach.”

“You just want there to be exploding zombie heads.”

Chris fixes Zach with an incredulous stare. “Um, _of course_. Everything could be improved with exploding zombie heads. It’s Romero’s Law of Narrative Fiction.”

“You just made that up.”

“But does it make it any less true, Zach? Does it make it any less true?”

“Maybe there’s a lost episode where the undead Indians rise from the earth to take their revenge and everyone has to hole up at Miss Kitty’s and use their rifles as clubs when they run out of bullets.”

Chris snorts and stuffs a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “You just said ‘hole up at Miss Kitty’s.’ It’s funny ‘cause it’s a brothel.”

Zach rolls his eyes jokingly. “It’s a _saloon_. Is sex all you ever talk about?”

“It’s all I ever think about.”

“Me too, but you don’t see me going around blabbing about it.”

“Hey, I don’t _blab_ ,” says Chris, looking a little hurt. “I only tell you. I thought you were okay with that.”

“I do. I was just teasing.” Chris is still pouting and Zach heaves another sigh. “Okay, what do I have to do to get that look off your face?”

“Tell me something about your sex life.”

“What? Why?”

“Bonding and crap. It doesn’t have to be something dark and dirty. You know everything about me, and I’d like to know at least something about you. You’re bi, right?”

“Yeah, leaning towards gay.”

“Okay, that’s a start. Do you top or bottom? Honest to god, I’m dying to know.”

Zach rubs the bridge of his nose. He’s not ashamed of his choices; it’s just that Chris seems vastly more experienced at, well, everything. “I’ve only ever bottomed.”

Chris’ eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. “Really?”

“Well, I’ve slept with a few women. But I’ve never topped a guy.”

“Huh, that surprises me.”

“Why?”

“Like I said before, you’re just very… controlled,” Chris says, looking thoughtful. “Not in a bad way, like controlling or anything. Me? No self-discipline at all when it comes to sex. But you’re just very generous, very good at making sure other people get what they need. Signs of a good top.”

“It’s not like I’d be averse to it,” Zach says with a shrug. “It just kind of worked out that way. Plus, I was in a relationship for a long time and he was pretty insistent that I bottom.”

“Ugh, I hate that. Not that I top a lot, but I like having the option, y’know? Guys that top exclusively are usually pretty emotionally constipated. Well, in my experience anyway.”

The conversation falls silent after that, Zach watching Chris dig in the popcorn bowl as the sound of horses whinnying emanates from the TV. Zach settles back against the couch, assuming the conversation is over until he hears Chris say, “If you ever wanted to try it, you know, I’m available.”

When Zach turns his head, Chris is still calmly watching the screen. “You… what?” Zach sputters.

“I’m just saying, I think you’d be really good at it. I’m pretty sure you don’t usually go for one-night stands, so if you wanted to give it a shot with a friend, I’d be game.”

Zach has absolutely no idea how to respond to that. “Um… thanks?”

“Don’t mention it. Okay, pop quiz: two suspects for the stagecoach robbery. One has a thick, bristly mustache and the other one has a baby face and an adorable stutter. Whodunnit?”

The topic now indisputably changed, Zach blinks twice and goes back to the show. “The mustache in the desert with the revolver.”

“Excellent choice, Professor Plum. And it is _so_ a brothel – they just couldn’t say it on TV back then.”

 

 **Five**

It’s an unusual meal in many respects. For one, Chris has ordered something other than the BLT, hold the T. For another, Zach actually managed to get a few sentences out before Chris started in with, “Holy fuck, I haven’t gotten any in _days_.”

Zach snorts and sets down his sandwich. “To what do we owe this particular dry spell? Surely you haven’t been striking out with your latest attempt at a pickup line?”

“Hells to the no. Who’s gonna say no to ‘you wanna fuck Captain Kirk?’”

“Maybe the people who erroneously assume you’re pimping for Shatner?”

“Hush. I’ve just been too tired to go out and none of my, uh, previous contacts are returning my calls.”

“Poor thing. No booty calls for Chris.”

“You ought to try it sometime.”

Zach smiles and shakes his head. “Does this conversation end with you offering to be my very own booty call?”

Pouting a little, Chris says, “It doesn’t have to _end_ there, no.”

“Once you get an idea in your head, you really can’t let it go, can you?”

“Well, not this one.” Chris leans across the table. “We’re both hot and single. And you’ve never topped a man – don’t you want to try?”

“Sure, but it’s not like I’ve got some sort of checklist of sexual acts that I’ve got to get through or else.”

From the crestfallen look on his face, Zach knows Chris has just such a checklist, but he recovers fairly quickly. “C’mon – I know it’ll be good.”

His eyes are so intensely honest that Zach’s heart stops beating for a second, but he knows the offer is probably born out of frustration during a dry spell rather than actual desire on Chris’ part. “Bad idea.”

“Why?”

“I refuse to believe you’ve never slept with a co-worker and had it go badly afterward,” Zach scoffs.

“Yeah, but you’re also my friend.”

“Even worse.”

Biting his lip, Chris asks, “Would it get weird for you? Afterward?”

“It might.”

Chris actually seems to consider this. “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Yeah. I mean, invitation still stands, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Well, damn – Chris is showing some forethought about sex. Will wonders never cease. Zach nearly says this aloud, but Chris has been so sincere that he figures it’s not the time for teasing. Instead, he asks, “How’s that Reuben?”

“Not too bad. And definitely kosher…er.”

Zach holds up his soda for a toast. “To turning a new leaf.”

 

 **Six**

Shockingly, that’s the last Zach hears of it for a long time. But he doesn’t hear much about Chris’ sex life at all, and he begins to wonder whether he’s somehow managed to fling himself back over to the wrong side of the Great Wall. Even though they’re still hanging out regularly and talking about everything else, Zach can’t help but be curious.

He finally decides to hazard asking one night at Chris’ over a tense, semi-sober game of Uno. “Haven’t heard much about your, um, social life lately,” he says casually, praying he won’t regret the consequences.

Chris’ eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. “I didn’t know you missed hearing about it.”

Zach takes a moment to ponder whether he wants to burn one of his Draw Fours so early in the game; he does. “It doesn’t keep me up at night, but I am getting concerned that your, uh, _considerable_ needs are going unfulfilled. If that energy doesn’t get redirected somewhere soon, you might explode. And then who would bring me my coffee?”

With a barking laugh, Chris draws his cards and says, “Nah, my needs are all set.”

“Not trying to pry, but why haven’t I heard?”

Zach looks up and is utterly stunned to see Chris… blushing? “Well, shit. I met this guy through a friend a couple of weeks ago, and we’ve been… Zach, I think I’ve been _dating_ him. I didn’t want to tell anyone because I didn’t want to jinx it. Stupid, huh?”

A strange sinking feeling twists at Zach’s insides, but he keeps his voice light. This is a good thing for Chris. “No, not stupid at all. I mean the dating. The jinx thing – very stupid.”

Chris chuckles quietly. “Your move.”

“Huh?” Zach looks down and sees that Chris has played a green four, fours and green cards being practically the only things not in his hand at the moment. “Oh. So who is this guy?”

“His name’s Drew. He’s a Pisces.” Zach shoots Chris a disbelieving look and Chris rolls his eyes. “Fuck if I know what that means. But that’s how he introduces himself.”

Zach has to actually bite his tongue to keep from laughing or giving his uncensored opinion on men who give out their astrological sign upon first meetings. He reminds himself that this is what he’s wanted for Chris – isn’t it? – so his first reaction should not be one of derision.

But Chris continues quickly. “I know what you’re thinking, but he’s not that much of a douche. He’s actually really nice.”

 _Nice?_ Zach wants to say. _What is ‘nice’?_ But instead he asks, “So, can I meet this Drew?”

“Maybe,” Chris says, staring a little too intently at his cards. “I don’t know – it’s not like I’m ready for him to meet the family and everything.”

Despite himself, Zach has to laugh. “What, I’m that embarrassing to you?”

Chris looks up, shaking his head earnestly. “No way, man, not you. I’m just… like, I don’t know if this is going to last.”

“Do you—” _Love him?_ are the next words about to come out of Zach’s mouth, but he catches himself just in time. “Uh, do you want to play another game?”

“Yeah,” Chris says, slapping his cards down on the table. “This game is no fun with two people. Scrabble?”

“Sounds good,” says Zach. Focusing on the words should help snap him out of this mood he’s somehow gotten himself in.

“Sweet. I kicked Drew’s ass at Scrabble _once_ and now he’ll never play with me.”

Some of the weight in Zach’s chest lifts, and he tries very hard not to think about why.

 

 **Seven**

Chris answers the door in sweatpants and t-shirt that says “$5 Footlong” with an arrow pointing towards his crotch, and Zach immediately knows why Chris called him to come over.

“Shit. You and Drew broke up.”

“Wha… How did you know?” Chris asks, stepping back to let Zach in.

“Subtle things – the tone of your voice, the look in your eyes. And that mostly-empty pint of Chunky Monkey in your hand was a hint.”

“I’ve got some Chubby Hubby and Bovinity Divinity still in the freezer if you’re hungry. Apparently I only like rhyming flavors,” Chris mutters with a heavy sigh.

“Nah, I’m good,” Zach says, steering them both toward the living room, where a big blanket is laying rumpled on the couch next to a broken-spined copy of _Wuthering Heights_. Wow. So that’s how it is. “Alright, I’m staging an intervention before the Celine Dion comes on. What happened?”

“Drew dumped me,” Chris says, crumpling unhappily onto the couch and clearing some room for Zach to sit. “And I don’t even know why I’m so upset. It’s not like I was madly in love with him or anything.”

Zach stamps down hard at the floaty feeling that takes up residence in his chest. “So what’s with the full-on Bridget Jones?”

Chris looks at him as though Zach is some kind of pale, filmy-eyed mole-person emerging into the sunlight for the first time. “Zachary, if romantic comedies have taught me anything, it is that this is how one deals with a breakup. Though I wasn’t going to touch the Celine – god, just take me out back and shoot me if I’m ever that pathetic.”

Zach smiles before he can help it, but he tries to make it a sympathetic one. “Not much experience being the dumpee, huh?”

“It’s been awhile. Been awhile since I cared enough about someone for them to be able to dump me.”

“Well, there you go,” Zach says, gently prying the spoon out of Chris’ sticky hands and placing it on the coffee table next to the ice cream carton. “Just a little wounded pride.”

“Yeah, that…” Chris says, trailing off into silence, and Zach gives him a minute to collect his thoughts. “It’s just… it only lasted a month.”

“That’s longer than most of your previous, um—” Zach can’t quite think of a word that doesn’t sound either phony or judgmental, but fortunately Chris cuts him off.

“That’s just it, though. I was actually trying this time. I didn’t love Drew, but I might have. Someday, y’know? He was a nice guy, really hot, and the sex was pretty good.”

 _There’s the word ‘nice’ again_. “So what happened?” Zach asks, as gently as he can.

“He said I was distant. And needy. How can I be both distant and needy? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know.”

“And it wasn’t like he was perfect, either. He complained about his job all the time. _All_ the damn time. And he was a really lousy tipper, too – always calculated the tip without the tax, which is just stingy if you ask me—”

“Chris,” Zach tries to cut in.

“Just, why could I only make it last a month?” Chris sits forward, his eyes pleading. “What’s wrong with me?”

“It might not have had anything to do with you,” Zach says, his voice soothing. “Yeah, you’re rusty on the whole ‘relationship’ thing, but that doesn’t necessarily make it your fault that things didn’t work out. How much did you two have in common, anyway?”

Chris frowns in thought. “Umm… I think we both liked the same flavor of Doritos.”

Zach scoffs in mock exasperation. “And how could you have possibly managed to fuck that up? It was practically destiny.”

Squirming and blushing a little, Chris says, “Okay, I see your point.”

“Good. This has just been another in my multipart series called ‘The Universe Does Not Revolve Around Chris Pine.’ Tune in next week when we’ll discuss your disgusting eating habits.”

Chris sticks his tongue out, but looks a little less miserable than before. He flops back against the couch and sighs. “Alright, but can I still rant about Drew’s less than desirable qualities for a while?”

“Would that make you a happier and more fulfilled human being?”

“It would.”

Zach laughs. “Then have at it.”

Chris perks up at that. “Oh thank god. I’ve been dying to tell you – but it just felt kind of weird, since we were together and all – Drew came in my ear once. My _ear_.”

“Holy shit! On purpose?”

“Not really. I was gonna let him come on my face, but then there was this sound from next door – I think the neighbors were fighting again – so I turned my head just for a second, and _bam_! Spooged right in my ear. It was horrifying. I engaged in some very aggressive Q-Tipping, but I kept having nightmares where I was pregnant with his ear babies.”

Zach would have pronounced his displeasure at Chris’ grotesque imagination, but he’s too busy rolling on the floor with laughter.

 

 **Eight**

It wasn’t the last bit of self-pitying Zach would hear over the next few weeks, but he was usually able to snap Chris out of it with a few sympathetic words and a light smack to the back of the head. Zach expected everything to get back to normal, which it pretty much does, except that Chris hasn’t mentioned any sexual debauchery since Drew.

He decides to be a little more proactive this time, so he heads over to Chris’ trailer after shooting. Chris looks pleased to see him, and Zach suddenly realizes that nearly all their conversations until now have taken place in his own trailer. Chris’ is surprisingly neat save for the stacks of books on nearly every horizontal surface. “You’ve been holding out on me,” Zach says as he gets comfortable on the couch.

“Wuh?” Chris says, his mouth full of at least half a king-size Three Musketeers bar. He ducks his head to finish chewing.

“I’ve decided to stop pretending I’m not living vicariously through your sexual exploits,” Zach admits, glad that Chris is facing away from him at the moment. “So c’mon, spill. Unless you’re dating someone again, in which case—”

Chris turns back to him, glass of water in hand. “Nope, nothing like that. Actually, um.” He blushes a little and takes a long swig from the glass. “I’m kind of trying out celibacy.”

Zach waits a moment for the punch line, but it never comes. “You’re… Seriously?”

“Um, yeah,” Chris says, looking far more uncomfortable with this admission than any sexually explicit thing he’s told Zach so far. “I don’t know how long I’m going to make it, but I’m shooting for at least a month. Give me time to think about what I really want, y’know?”

“Well, I…” Zach is honestly stunned – he doesn’t think Chris will last a week, but he doesn’t want to say anything. This will be good for Chris, give him some perspective. “I’m impressed. How long has it been?”

“Nine days, twelve hours, twenty-three minutes,” Chris says, glancing at his watch. “Give or take.”

Already much longer than Zach would have guessed. “Since Drew?”

“Yeah,” Chris says, biting his lip. “But I’m not going without jerking off. That would be, like, clinically insane. Though I don’t suppose you want the details to that.”

Zach laughs and almost, _almost_ says yes. But he’s just kidding. Really, he is. “Go easy on the chocolate,” he says. “I know they say it’s a substitute for sex, but you’ve still got to keep your girlish figure for a few more weeks.”

Chris blows him a raspberry but finally plops down on the couch next to him. “Hey, Zach? Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For not giving me shit about this.”

Zach laughs gently. “What, did you think I was going to try to hatch some wacky plot to seduce you before the month was out?”

“Maybe,” Chris says, a wicked little sparkle in his eyes.

“I still might,” Zach mutters, elbowing Chris a little. Chris elbows back, initiating a full-on girly slapfight.

 

 **Nine**

Since Chris is no longer heading to bars most nights to pick up guys, he starts hanging out with Zach more often. He looks good, too, even better than before Drew, though Zach has to admit it’s probably due to fewer drinks and late nights rather than the decrease in sex. Problem is, as Chris’ libido seems to be slowing down, Zach’s is speeding up. He’s never been That Guy that complains when he’s not getting any, but now that he’s no longer got even Chris’ bedroom shenanigans to listen to, it’s starting to catch up to him.

Which is why (he’s sure) that he starts to fixate on Chris – Chris’ laugh, the way his hips move, even the way he mock-growls and pounces when he’s playing with Noah. Zach thought he knew Chris before, but now he can’t help but pay attention to every little detail of the other man’s presence. He can even tell when it’s Chris’ feet on the steps to his trailer or hear when it’s his car pulling into the driveway.

“It hasn’t been as bad as I’d imagined,” Chris says between takes one afternoon. “Yeah, I still crave sex sometimes, but not all the time. And I actually feel less lonely.”

“Yeah, because you’re with me all the time,” Zach blurts out before he can stop himself.

Chris’ hand freezes with his water bottle halfway to his mouth. “Oh shit, Zach, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound like you’re my second-string replacement for sex or anything. I’m really glad that we hang out more.”

“No,” Zach says, trying to wave it off dismissively. “That came out a lot bitchier than I meant it to. Actually, I wanted to thank you.”

“Me? For what?”

“For not condescendingly asking for pointers. Wanting to know how I go without sex all the time without exploding.”

“Hey, no,” Chris says, shaking his head. “I know you’re just selective about who you choose to be with. You have high standards – I really admire you for that.”

“Oh,” Zach says, a little confused. “Thanks.”

“But there is something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Something very important,” Chris says, leaning forward and dropping his voice in a way that is distinctly worrisome.

“Yes?”

“Vulcan genitalia – humanoid or… not?”

Zach somehow manages to keep a straight face. “Well, I can’t speak for the ladies, but Vulcan cocks? Ten inches. On _average_.”

“Liar!”

“No, it’s true! I asked Leonard!”

“You did _not_ ask Leonard Nimoy about Vulcan junk.”

“Check the internet,” Zach says smugly. “See if I’m wrong.”

 

 **Ten**

“I can’t believe you made me Google ‘Vulcan penises,’ you tool,” Chris says one night at Zach’s place over beer and kung fu movies.

“I didn’t _make_ you do anything, Christopher. Had I that power, I would make you take your feet off the coffee table and return my copy of _The Fourth Hand_.” He means it to sound slightly grumpy, but it’s mostly fondness that slips through. Chris has become a regular fixture on his couch and Zach likes it that way.

“Shit. I keep meaning to, but then I started rereading it. I’ve been sublimating my sex drive into literature.”

“Jesus,” Zach laughs, watching the flickering light from the television dance across Chris’ smile. “You must have made it through most of the public library by now.”

“Not quite. Though I did finally finish the _Gulag Archipelago_. Nothing like Soviet concentration camps to kill a boner.”

“How politically correct of you.”

“Eh, you know what I mean,” Chris mutters, staring at the TV and taking a long swing of his beer.

They sit in silence for a few moments, and before Zach can think better of it, he blurts out, “So, come to any revelations during your time of abstinence?”

“Um, actually,” Chris says, squirming uncomfortably on the couch and grabbing the remote to mute the TV before turning to face Zach. “I kind of have. Shit, don’t hate me for bringing this up again, but I don’t think I ever phrased it right before. I’ve had some time to think, you know, and I think I know what I want.”

He looks at Zach in a meaningful way, but apparently Zach’s brain is being particularly slow tonight – backlogged as it is with the visual of Chris lovingly wrapping his lips around the mouth of the bottle when he drinks his beer – because Zach’s not getting the meaning. “Huh?”

“You know how I said I’d let you top me if you wanted to, just to try? Well, that came out wrong. What I meant was: I _want_ you to top me.”

On the long list of things he’s ever expected to hear out of Chris’ mouth, this ranks near the bottom, and all Zach can do is dumbly repeat, “You… want…”

“Or bottom for me, whatever. And, y’know, everything that comes after that. Look, I’ve been thinking about it, and I think in any relationship I’m going to be looking for, well, _you_. And nobody else is going to measure up. I’ve been attracted to you from the beginning, but now we’ve become such good friends and that’s what I want. What we have. This, but with sex. ”

 _Use your words, Zachary_ , he thinks harshly to himself, but all that comes out is a pathetic strangled noise.

“It’s okay,” Chris says quickly. “I know it’s a lot. And I don’t know if you’re even attracted to me, y’know, like that. I know I’m probably putting too much pressure on you too fast, but I need you to know what I’m offering – not just sex. But if that’s what you wanted, hey, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t say no.”

“But… the celibacy thing?” Zach stammers.

Chris laughs a little. “Honestly, I think I learned what I needed to learn from it. No point in denying myself anymore.” He pauses, and the smile quickly melts from his face as he looks searchingly at Zach. “But I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I don’t even know how you feel about all this.”

“I, um,” is as far as Zach gets before he’s lunging forward, smashing his lips to Chris’ in an awkward, clumsy kiss. He’s so tired of mulling things over; the fuse is lit and for once he wants to take a page out of Chris’ book and just _do_. Chris responds as best he can, one arm swinging in the air as he blindly tries to find the coffee table to set his beer down.

Finally, Chris pushes at Zach’s chest hard enough to separate them. “Wow, okay,” he says, putting the beer out of flailing range and properly facing Zach on the couch. “That was unexpected.”

But Zach suddenly finds he can’t bear to stop touching Chris for another minute. It’s a strange feeling, nearly unwelcome, but he can’t talk right now, can hardly even think because Chris wants this, desires him, not just an _I’m available_ but an _I want_ , and Zach moves forward again into Chris’ space.

Chris evades his lips and Zach nearly whines. “Help me out here,” Chris says, his eyes already beginning to dilate with lust. “What are you thinking, Zach?”

“I’m not,” Zach says, and it’s dangerously close to a whimper. “I can’t think. I want to— Chris, I just _want_.”

It’s all he can manage at the moment, and luckily Chris gets it, whispers, “Yeah, okay. _Yeah_ ,” and plants his mouth back on Zach’s. After a moment, their movements finally match up and Chris’ mouth opens invitingly, and that’s when it clicks. Chris’ tongue is hot and soft against the inside of Zach’s mouth, his hands cupping Zach’s cheeks, and Zach fists his hands in Chris’ shirt to drag him closer. Chris laughs and falls forward against Zach, straddling the other man’s thighs and wrapping arms around his shoulders until they’re chest to chest.

When Zach finally has to come up for air, he kisses and nips his way along Chris’ jaw, heading for the sensitive spot beneath Chris’ ear and he feels Chris’ laughter before he hears it. “Did the circus finally come to town?”

Somewhere in the back of Zach’s mind is a joke about being hung like an elephant, but it never actually coalesces thanks to the thunderstorm of lust raging through him. He sucks at the skin of Chris’ throat until he moans and his hands dig into Zach’s hair, yanking him up for a proper kiss again. There’s less playfulness this time, more need, and Zach’s hands fall to Chris’ hips to grind their growing erections together.

“Bed,” Chris gasps against Zach’s mouth, pulling away and standing up on shaky legs. “Don’t wanna break your stupid Ikea couch.”

It’s only then that it occurs to Zach to be nervous – if Chris is used to getting couch-busting sex on a regular basis, how will Zach measure up? He tries to shove the thought out of his head as Chris takes him by the belt loops and drags him to his own bedroom – he can’t afford to have his brain start back up in full anxiety mode just now, not if he actually wants to go through with this. And fucking hell, does he ever want to go through with this.

By the time they get to his bedroom, Zach has forced any doubts out of his head. They tumble onto the bed and then he’s practically tearing Chris’ shirt open, surprised by both the strength of his need and the steadiness of his hands. Chris moans, soaking up the touch of Zach’s hands greedily coasting over his chest, shaping the muscles of his shoulders and arms. Chris is almost unthinkably beautiful, soft pale skin a stunning contrast to the hard muscle beneath. He sits up enough for Zach to push the shirt from his shoulders, tugging at Zach’s hem until he’s shirtless, too.

Chris’ hands are clutching at his shoulders, but Zach can’t stop touching long enough to pay attention. Chris moans and playfully struggles a little against him, and even though it’s just for show, it flexes his abs perfectly and ratchets up Zach’s need even higher. When his hands reach the bulge in Chris’ jeans, Zach can hardly think anymore. He cups Chris firmly through the thick fabric, needing to feel—

“Zach!” Chris gasps, grabbing Zach’s wrist. “Wait! Wait, you gotta—” Zach freezes, terrified he’s done something wrong, but Chris’ smile is still there, still curling at the corner of his lips despite the lust. “Don’t judge me on this. I haven’t had sex in a month – I’m gonna go off the second you touch me.”

It’s been even longer for Zach, but he can hold out for this. For Chris, he can make it last. “Guess we’d better undress ourselves, then.”

“Yeah,” Chris says, the smile back to full-strength now, his eyes glittering with something Zach can’t quite place.

He makes quick work of his own clothes, focusing on folding them instead of the heavy ache of his erection. When he’s done, he finds that his feet are far too heavy for him to turn around and takes in a few shaky breaths until he hears the murmured “Zach” from behind him.

When he finally does turn, he sees Chris propped up against the headboard, a wide, easy grin on his face and his hand outstretched as casually as if he were helping Zach up off the couch. No matter that he’s naked and hard and clutching a distressingly large tub of Boy Butter in his other hand. Zach goes to him instinctually, sitting on the side of the bed, and Chris pulls him down for a kiss.

After a few moments, the muscles in Zach’s back start to protest from the twisted position he’s in. Chris must sense this, because he reaches down to Zach’s waist and tugs. “C’mon, cowboy,” he says with a grin. “Mount up.”

“Is that what you want?” Zach asks, swiveling to face Chris with one knee up on the bed.

“Zach, I want you however I can have you. But, uh, I’ve gotta say that most of my fantasies involve you holding me down and plowing me like the Fertile Crescent.”

And Zach can’t be too anxious, not if Chris is drudging up ancient agricultural similes in bed. “Exactly how long have you been waiting to use that line?”

“Oh my god, does it _matter_?” Chris whines, but he maneuvers Zach with surprising strength and gentleness until Zach is kneeling over him. Zach relents and presses their bodies together as he plunders Chris’ mouth, and both men moan as their cocks rub together.

“Wanted this for so long,” Chris murmurs, his hips writhing against Zach’s in a way that completely robs Zach of speech. “Didn’t know how to tell you. Didn’t think you wanted me.”

“I—” Zach finally manages, but he finds he has no idea how to say what he wants to say – that he didn’t even know he wanted Chris until very recently, but now that he knows, he can’t think of anything else. That he’s sort of terrified he’ll end up as just another of Chris’ stories, related in detail later on to some other friend who will take Zach’s place. That he would do anything in the world to remain Chris’ friend except stop touching him, stop kissing him. “I want to fuck you” is the best he can do.

Chris laughs. “Then we’re in agreement.”

“I’ve never—” Zach says, even though Chris knows. His composure is rapidly slipping. “I want to, but I might… explode?”

This just makes Chris laugh harder, but his eyes and smile are warm. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that? You want me to ride you? Might take some of the pressure off.”

“That would be, uh, good,” Zach says dumbly, his mouth suddenly dry. Chris sits up and kisses him sweetly, easily maneuvering them until Zach is lying down on the bed. He picks up a condom off the nightstand, but Zach grabs it out of his hand. “Um, better let me.”

Chris nods and opens the tub of lube. As Zach watches in amazement, Chris leans back on one hand and reaches down to finger himself open. By the time he’s worked two fingers into himself, he’s panting, eyes screwed tightly shut, and Zach has to clutch the sheets to keep from reaching for him. He rolls the condom on quickly, praying that Chris will be ready before he embarrasses himself and comes before Chris can even touch him.

Luckily, Chris decides he’s done and leans forward on his hands to crawl up and drop a sweet, chaste kiss on Zach’s lips before reaching back and taking a firm hold of Zach’s cock. He pushes himself up on his knees and wastes no time impaling himself on it. As the slick heat engulfs him, Zach can do no more than gasp brokenly as Chris’ head tips back and he lets out a soft, high-pitched _ah_ when his hips settle flush against Zach’s.

For a long moment, Chris doesn’t move, and Zach flings his own head back with the intensity of it. He wants to give Chris time to adjust, but he’s nearly bursting from his skin with the need to move. He arches his back as best he can with Chris’ weight heavy on him, as though he could push even deeper, lose himself entirely in Chris.

Chris gets the message, and Zach looks up in time to see Chris’ hands slide up his abdomen to plant firmly on his pecs as Chris finally, _finally_ begins to move. Zach’s hands fly to Chris’ hips to have something to hold on to, and Chris’ smile just widens the harder Zach grips him. He sets an agonizingly slow pace, and after a few moments Zach gives up on trying to keep his hips still, thrusting them up to chase the clutching heat of Chris’ body. Chris – _the_ _bastard_ – slows down even more, the muscles in his thighs quaking with the effort. “Chris, _please_ ,” Zach moans, and when he just smiles sweetly and shakes his head, Zach knows what Chris is angling for.

Zach doesn’t waste another second – he bucks up hard and topples Chris to the side so he can shove the other man over onto his back. When Zach thrusts back in, Chris actually shouts with pleasure, getting a firm grip on Zach’s biceps and rolling his hips up eagerly. “Fuck, yeah, c’mon,” he groans, his eyes alight with wickedness.

It feels too good to be real, and Zach has to shut his eyes for a moment and just listen to the sounds –Chris’ gleefully filthy words of encouragement, the obscene squelch of each thrust, the creaking of the bed. He loses himself in the rhythm so completely that it takes him a few minutes to realize that Chris’ sounds have died down from shouts to soft _mmm_ s and _yeah_ s, still good but not enough.

When he opens his eyes, Chris is looking up at him. Zach murmurs his name as a question, and Chris says, “Lock your arm under my lower back.”

Zach stills and does it. “Pull up a little,” Chris continues, and Zach does that, too, helping to lift his pelvis off the bed. Chris nods and Zach thrusts experimentally. “A little higher.” He tries again, and that’s it – Chris is keening again, undulating as Zach begins to piston his hips in earnest, giving in eagerly as Chris begs for _more, harder, just like that, oh god please Zach, more_. His arm and abs are going to be sore in the morning, but it’s worth it for the way Chris wails his name, one heel digging into Zach’s back to urge him on.

In mere moments, Zach is close to the edge, but between supporting himself and Chris, he can’t spare a hand. “Chris, touch yourself,” he gasps. “Please. Wanna see it.”

Chris doesn’t need any more encouragement – he strokes himself hard and fast, coming with a delicious moan, barely stopping to breathe before he’s chanting, “C’mon, Zach, do it. Come for me. Know you’re close, baby, give it up.”

Zach’s hips jerk once, twice, slamming Chris’ shoulders into the bed as his orgasm rips through him like a hot knife, hollowing him out brilliantly. He’s still quivering with it when he slumps down on to Chris’ chest, the man beneath him chuckling breathlessly and drawing lazy circles in the slick sweat on his back.

Eventually, Zach has to move, if only to quickly dispose of the condom and flop back down beside Chris. Who is smiling suspiciously smugly as he cleans himself off with a corner of Zach’s sheet. “What?” Zach demands.

“I was right,” Chris says. “You are _really_ fucking good at that.”

Zach’s natural reflex when Chris takes that self-satisfied tone is to immediately contradict whatever he’s just said, but he catches himself just in time. “Y’r damn right I am,” he mutters, his face half-smushed against a pillow.

Chris just laughs, nudging Zach with his elbow. “I’m not done with you yet, Quinto. I haven’t had any in a month and I’ve got a deficit to make up here.”

Zach opens his mouth to tell Chris exactly what he thinks of his so-called “deficit” when the sinful glint in Chris’ eyes makes Zach’s spent cock twitch ever so slightly. It seems he has his own deficit to make up.

 

 **Eleven**

Zach wakes up as he normally does on mornings when he doesn’t have anywhere to be – slowly, keeping his eyes closed against the light filtering in through the blinds, stretching out across the empty bed. He groans softly as he moves his hips, muscles that he hasn’t used in quite a while protesting as he does. His eyes pop open.

 _Oh, shit_. He and Chris fucked last night. Twice. And now Chris is gone without a word.

He clamps down on the emotion welling up at the back of his throat, going over the events of the previous night. Chris hadn’t made him any promises. He’d said some nice things at the beginning, like he meant well, but it had obviously been too much for him in the light of day. Zach shuts his eyes and forces himself to relax, taking himself through a deep-breathing exercise until his heartbeat slows.

Lying in bed isn’t going to do him any favors – he needs to distract himself until he can think this through objectively, figure out what kind of damage control is needed. He stumbles to the bathroom to brush his teeth, groaning at the hickey on his neck that he glimpses in the mirror. Back in his room, he’s just beginning to wonder why he hasn’t heard Noah whining to go out when he sees the neon-green Post-It note stuck to his phone.

 _Call me when you get up_.

Chris picks up on the second ring, leaving Zach no time to come up with a plan for what to say. Luckily, Chris starts right in with, “Oh, good, you found my note. I’m such a fucking bonehead – I totally forgot I had this thing this morning, and you were so deeply asleep. Like, Noah was making a racket and you weren’t even stirring, so I took him out before I left. Was I supposed to do something for the cat? He looked at me like I was supposed to do something.”

“That’s pretty much how he always looks,” Zach says, not knowing what the hell else to say.

“Oh, okay. I just wanted you to know that I didn’t run out on you. Well, I did, but I had a reason for it.”

“Um. That’s good. I guess.” Then Zach freezes up completely. For once in his life, he can’t think of any words at all. He just wants to hear the sound of Chris’ voice, but that’s so damn pathetic he can’t bring himself to ask for it. The seconds tick by in silence.

“So, um, I guess I should tell you,” Chris finally says. “I slept with the hottest guy last night.”

“Really,” Zach says after a moment, and his voice does not crack at all. Not even a little bit.

“Mm-hmm. Gorgeous body. Legs for days.”

Zach reminds himself to breathe. “Wouldn’t have pegged you as a leg man.”

“Oh, but I am. Especially _his_ legs. Great hands, too. Haven’t come that hard in ages. I think I’m in trouble, though.”

“Do tell.” And now Zach is clutching the phone so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

“He’s the total package – smart, sexy, funny, passionate.” Chris’ voice drops, sounding almost hesitant. “I kinda fell for him. I suck at this whole relationship thing, but he’s good enough at it that maybe we could give it a shot.”

Zach takes a deep breath. “That’s… quite a coincidence,” he manages. “Same thing happened to me last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve known him for a long time, but I didn’t realize how important he was to me. He’s gorgeous, too. Beautiful eyes. Body of a Greek god. Amazingly kind.”

“Zach, I—”

“I think you’ve met him – his name’s Karl Urban.”

Chris bursts out laughing. “Oh, fuck you, man. I was trying to be serious.”

“I know, and it was scaring me a little bit. Sorry, I just couldn’t resist. But just, um…” Zach bites his lip. “Come over tonight, yeah?”

He can hear the smile in Chris’ voice. “I think I can do that.”

Zach hangs up the phone and wonders how he’s ever going to cover up this stupid grin when they start back filming on Monday. But that’s the thing about the Great Wall of China – you can see it from space.


End file.
